


Move Forward, Move Backward

by ChaosKirin



Category: Game Grumps, Good Game (TV 2017)
Genre: Character Driven Story, Depression, Gaming, Gen, MOBA, Major Character Injury, Mental Illness, References to Depression, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-19 04:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29994135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaosKirin/pseuds/ChaosKirin
Summary: Killcore has been offline for weeks and no one knows why. Ryland falls back into his old habits until a text from Ash alerts him that the game is back online... But massively sanitized. Dozens of characters have been removed. The mechanics have been made easier to the point where a newborn baby could figure them out. And horror of horrors, Sweetnuts has been renamed to Sweetie. Ryland takes it upon himself to find out what happened and accidentally starts a massive campaign to return Killcore to its previous gloriously bloody state... until an “accident” nearly takes him out of competition entirely.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> CONTENT WARNING: this story deals with major depressive themes, including suicidal ideation, but also works on recovery and striving to find one's own happiness! This is NOT a dark story, but the main character is depressed and that does come with some major drawbacks. Please keep this in mind before you read!

Alex said something about the servers, but Ryland wasn't paying attention.

It was the same thing every afternoon. Ryland would wake up, plop down on the couch for some gaming, then Alex would notice he was awake and ask him whether or not the Killcore servers were active. But they weren't--they hadn't been for weeks. Three weeks? Four? Everything blurred together lately, ever since the game crashed just after eSports Peoples' second place win at Bloodmatch. No one knew why.

"Ry?" Alex prompted.

Ryland sighed. "No, they're not up yet, Alex."

"I asked if there was any way we could still practice," Alex said. "I mean... Kamal already tried to sneak his computer out of the house to sell the parts. Second time he's tried this week. If we don't do something soon, he's gonna succeed."

"There's no game to play," Ryland said. "The servers. Are down."

"Well... Kamal said something about a private server?"

Ryland grunted in assent. "Some guy pulled the game files and API just before Bloodmatch. He's got it up on his own server... Which you have to pay to use."

"Well, that's great!" Alex hopped up onto the counter and watched the game on the TV for a moment before continuing. "We can have Lorenzo send 'em a payment."

Ryland shook his head. "Not ideal. The private server's like... A snapshot in time. Killcore's just kind of existing? That's the best way to put it. And this guy's not a programmer or anything, so there's no updates." And no updates led to bugs being discovered that no one had access to fix. Persistent server-side bugs could continue indefinitely and affect gameplay. "Plus, Sweetnuts is still in the game on this capture, which means everyone who plays him is using the exploit that got him taken out of the game in the first place."

"I thought he was removed for--what was it? Balancing. Re-balancing."

"I mean, that's another word for it." Ryland shrugged. "Some guy discovered if you hit, like, ten of his normals in the right order, his ult does a fuckton of damage. We're talking total team-wipe damage. Sometimes it even removes collision on the whole map. Plus it creates an absorb shield that's actually triple his HP. It was probably some debug mode they forgot to take out when the game went live or something."

Alex narrowed his eyes. "I understood maybe ten percent of that. No. No. Seven percent, we'll say. Anyway, can't we just ask the other players not to do... whatever that is?"

Ryland chuckled until he realized Alex wasn't joking. Setting his controller aside, he turned, resting his arm over the back of the couch. "You ever ask gamers to do anything fair? Nah. You give 'em an opening, and they're taking Sweetnuts right to the core and ending the game in ten whole seconds. It's unbalanced."

"But--"

"The capture on the private server is shit," Ryland said with finality. "And if that's still not enough for you, there's the self-destruct module built into the API that'll wipe the game after four months. That means all the brackets are erased. All progress just gone. Poof. And unless someone can crack the password to stop that from happening, well..."

"Isn't some practice better than none?" Alex asked.

In this case, no, but Ryland only shrugged.

Alex dropped the subject, only to bring up another sore spot. "Hey... Why are you still spending all your time here instead of at the new house with the team?"

At least it was an easy answer. "I don't like people."

"Oh, Ryland," Alex started, at which point Ryland tuned him out, turned back to the television, and resumed his game.

Only he wasn't really paying attention anymore. All he could think about was that stupid private server, and whether it'd be worth it to have the team give it a go. As he argued with himself, the little gems on the screen all seemed to de-focus, becoming nothing more than colorful blobs and streaks.

If he could get rid of Alex, maybe he could go back to sleep. It didn't matter if he'd only woken up a couple hours ago--sleep made sense, and at least he was happy in his dreams.

"Besides," Alex said, raising his voice to draw Ryland's attention. "They miss you. And if we all get together again, we can practice some other MOBA. Like League of Storms, or Heroes of the Legends."

Under his breath, Ryland said, "Think you might have mixed up a couple words there, buddy?"

Alex pretended not to hear. "Anyway, I just came over here to check on you," he chirped. "I'm gonna head home in a bit. It'd be nice if you'd come...?"

He wasn't going to, but Ryland still said, "I'll think about it."

"Or, you know... I could stay and we could play some games."

"I don't have any multi-player games."

"You're playing a multi-player game right now."

"Yeah, but it's boring."

Alex pondered for a bit, then asked, "I could just watch you play?"

Ryland didn't know how to tell Alex that he just wanted to be alone. He didn't want to socialize at all. Even the proximity to another person at the moment made his skin crawl, since he had to perform various niceties--like wearing pants--and engage in pointless small talk. He just wanted to zone out and let the day pass by in a haze.

Most of his days were hazy now, ever since Killcore went offline. The stupid game meant so much to him, even if he hesitated to admit it even to himself. He certainly wouldn't admit it to anyone else, but Alex definitely understood. It was nice to have someone around who understood, even through Ryland's complete emotional constipation.

It might be nice to have Alex around if he could stay silent.

Ryland turned around to say as much, only to find Alex had already left.

He added "text Alex to apologize" to his mental list of things he had to do.

Fuck.

Tossing the controller onto an area rug that hadn't been vacuumed for well over a month, he left the game on and meandered away. Maybe he'd pick it up later. With no one to tell him to save electricity or demand use of the TV, what did it matter if he just left it on all the time?

He felt abandoned, even though deep down, he understood it was his own fault. Alex would always be there for him, and so would a couple of the others like Ash and maybe even Lorenzo. Even so, Alex spent less and less time at the apartment, and all his shit had already been moved.

The new house was nice, if you liked things like that. Huge, but not too extravagant. Everyone had their own room, and with two full baths and two half-baths, no one had to argue over shower time. The best part about it was the finished basement, in which the others started building a game space for themselves, with all their computers and even a couple of Lorenzo's Gauntlet machines. Alex mentioned they even had a pool table now. Then, of course, there was the large living room they were working on furnishing, where everyone could spend time together chatting or just hanging out whenever they weren't practicing.

Everything Alex wanted. Everything Ryland didn't.

Maybe he could, if he tried. But he'd never been particularly social, and while he liked the others well enough, they drained his energy so quickly. They all had their own ways of getting under his skin, too. Kamal was a jackass. Sam was way too competitive. Lorenzo constantly nagged at all of them about one thing or another--often something so inane that Ryland tuned him out. Ash... Well, Ryland liked Ash, and had been waffling back and forth about asking her on a date for so long that to do so at this point would just be awkward.

And Alex was Alex.

Ryland wandered into his room and sat on a bed which hadn't been made for at least a month. The only other piece of real furniture in the room was a cheap shelf he bought after Bloodmatch, just to display the second place trophy. A couple other things now adorned the shelf, too... A few books he never intended to read. A couple video games he'd probably never play again. A note from Alex reminding Ryland that Kamal's eighteenth birthday was on the seventeenth and he'd be moving into the house full-time.

The seventeenth was a week ago. Ryland missed the party.

"What am I doing?" he asked, staring at the trophy. He wished he could live in that moment again, because it was the first time in his life he felt real. Like he had a purpose, or like he belonged somewhere. It was the first time he thought that he'd found his calling... That he could continue to do exactly what he'd just accomplished for the rest of his life. He felt whole.

His phone buzzed. He dug it out from a pile of dirty clothes and checked his messages.

Another reminder to refill his medication. He shouldn't keep putting it off; it made him feel a little more stable, after all. But in order to get it, he'd have to leave the apartment, which meant he'd have to take a shower, and he couldn't go out in dirty clothes, so he'd have to do the laundry. Which meant he'd have to re-connect the water line since rats in the walls had shaken it loose. And then he'd have to ask someone how to use the new drier.

In the end, it was much easier to just sit on his bed and fail.

As he stared at the notification from the pharmacy, his phone buzzed again.

Alex messaged: _Sorry I left so fast. You were kinda zoned out there. I still love you. You're my best friend. I'll be back later tonight to check on you._

Before Ryland could answer, Alex sent: _Unless you want to hang out now. I'm still sitting in my car in the lot. I could come back in._

Ryland started a response, but Alex messaged again: _:)_

"Jeez, Alex," Ryland muttered.

He almost set his phone aside, but as he turned to place it on the foot of his bed where it'd be inevitably swallowed up by more dirty clothes, he caught a glimpse of the poster Alex gave him a while back. Dog-eared and torn on the edge, it was the cliche poster of a kitten grabbing onto a branch with the caption "HANG IN THERE."

Despite himself, Ryland smiled.

 _actually_ , Ryland messaged, _i have a favor to ask u._

Alex sent: _ANYTHING!!!!!_

Ryland sent: _gonna call in a scrip to the pharm. can you pick up 4 me??_

Alex sent back a stream of happy-face emojis. Ryland took that as a yes.

One call to the pharmacy and another text interaction with Alex later, Ryland lay back on his bed and stared at the cracked, peeling ceiling. Maybe he hadn't done all the things he needed to do to get out of the apartment, but having a little help might enable him to do that tomorrow. He felt bad asking for help, but sometimes...

The phone buzzed again. Expecting Alex, Ryland held it over his face, only to find a message from Ash.

_Hey Ry. Check Killcore Servers. Weird. Let Me Know What You Think._

Ryland narrowed his eyes. He felt the slightest little pang of hope, which he mashed down as quickly as possible. Ash's message wasn't happy and positive. It was pensive. Used the word "weird." Required a response. Something wasn't right.

It took him a moment to roll out of bed and shuffle through the clothes on the floor.

Ryland's was the only computer still left in the apartment. It looked so lonely on the table by itself, but since he had no intention of moving to the new house, he wanted to keep it at the apartment. If nothing else, it meant Kamal wouldn't be able to break it apart and sell the pieces... Although Ryland himself hadn't so much as turned it on in days.

As it booted, he messaged Ash: _that doesn't sound good._

Ash responded: _I Don't Know. Maybe? Kamal's Had Some Words._

 _when doesn't he?_ Ryland asked, to which Ash sent: _LOL_

It didn't take long for the computer to boot. After all, the OS ran off a solid state drive, which they all decided would be better for the whole team. Lorenzo didn't really know the difference, but he wrote the check when the others agreed that they all needed top-of-the-line hardware. With a 500GB drive, they could also run Killcore right off the SSD, which gave them a speed advantage over most of the random teams they'd played in practice. It gave them an edge, if only slightly.

When Ryland opened Killcore, he was surprised to find it was doing an update. As he waited, he messaged Ash: _so they did something???_

Ash replied: _Just Wait._

The update finished, and a new splash screen loaded, sans the blood and general violence of the old version. The characters looked rounder. Slightly more cartoony, although most people might not notice. Given Ryland's artistic background, though, he immediately spotted the general sanitization of every character.

Then an info box popped up over the title screen.

_WELCOME BACK, GAMERS! Killcore has gone through some changes! We've removed some old characters, consolidating the pool of combatants. We've also made changes to the moveset for your remaining options. You'll find each character now only has two attacks, which should make things more user-friendly for new players. Please see Patch Notes for more information._

With trepidation, Ryland clicked on the Patch Notes.

Oh.

Resisting the urge to throw his computer out the window, he texted back to Ash: _this isn't good._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Killcore being gutted, eSports People don’t know what to do. Ryland finds himself wanting to sleep again just so he doesn’t have to deal with it... Until Alex suggests that he shouldn’t just take this lying down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Brief mention of some suicidal ideation. Minor, nothing too in depth.

Ryland lacked the energy to both leave the apartment _and_ lug his computer over to the House. He told everyone that in his outrage, he'd forgotten it.

He hadn't.

But one thing at a time.

In any case, there were five other usable computers in the House--including Alex's, which desperately needed upgrading and de-virusing, and Kamal's, which apparently Ryland wasn't allowed to touch. _Too expensive for your man-stink,_ Kamal said, leading the others to roll their eyes.

Thankfully, Ash wasn't so anal, so Ryland sat at her computer, scrolling through the Killcore patch notes as the others watched over his shoulder.

"It's 'cuz of this," Kamal said, jabbing his finger into the corner of Ash's monitor. The LED distorted a bit, the colors flickering.

Ash elbowed him. "Careful. That's mine."

Kamal ignored her. "Look, this used to be 'Cry-For-Help Games.'" He paused, allowing everyone the time to squint and read the tiny logo. It seemed to be a picture of a southwestern-style lizard, with the words "Lizard Coast Games" in a gaudy yellow font next to it. Kamal jabbed at it again. "It means Jesse sold the fuck out. Then this lizard company got a couple complaints from jackasses wearing their panties too tight so they scrubbed the game."

"I kinda like it," Lorenzo said. "I don't die as much. There's less... Blood."

Kamal started to reply, but before he could even manage a single word, Alex had him by the shoulder, one finger pointed directly between his eyes. "Be nice," he said.

"Whatever, 'coach,'" Kamal growled.

Tabbing out of Killcore, Ryland brought up 'Lizard Coast Games' in Google. It was a division of some larger company and solely owned the rights to Killcore. The site stopped just short of calling them family friendly.

"Why would they go after Killcore?" Sam asked. "If they're 'family friendly' and all. Why would they go after the most violent game since Mortal Kombat?"

"There's more violent games than Mortal Kombat," Kamal scoffed.

"Yeah, but MK is pretty infamous," Ryland said, trying to defuse a fight before it started. "Probably as infamous as Killcore when it comes to the number of complaints."

"And lawsuits," Alex pointed out.

Ryland nodded. "Yeah there were people on Reddit breaking some non-disclosure agreement about how they were paid off for pain and suffering or some shit. The one was trying to see if he'd get his settlement taken away. He never did. It was fun to watch the thread though."

"So they think if they get the game, they get all the gamers that come with it, no matter how much they fuck it up." Kamal crossed his arms. "Joke's on them. They're gonna lose their whole playerbase in a week. Watch."

"I wouldn't normally agree with Kamal, but I think he's right," Sam said.

Ryland returned to Killcore so he could scroll through the patch notes again. The more he read, the more he agreed with the others--no one who joined Killcore to play it in its original state would stick around to play it as it was now.

Several of the remaining characters who used to be tanks or assassins were now dedicated healers. Hell, even the word 'assassin' was removed due to its death-related connotation. In fact, it seemed there were more healers than fighters now, which made no sense in a _multiplayer online battle arena._

Even the maps themselves suffered. Rather than three defensible lanes, the barriers between each were removed, leaving one giant open space in the center. The lack of hiding places or escape routes made for a tactical nightmare which would always favor tanks with high hit points. Pre-game would be spent arguing over who got to play the only survivable characters. No one would play healers anymore, despite the dearth of damage-dealers.

"Check the roster," Ash said.

Closing out of the patch notes, Ryland started a practice run so he could get to the character select. It was woefully sparse, with only a couple familiar faces.

Manateen, Ryland's main and Killcore's weird mascot, was gone. So was Lorenzo's favored healer, Detached Retina. Sweetnuts was still in the game, although he'd been renamed to Sweetie, and Monster Pope's new name was Monster Mash--to avoid any intentional or unintentional offense.

"They took out Calamity's shadow mines," Ash said. "That was literally her only unique talent. The only reason she was even in the game. She's not an assassin without them."

"Nothing is classed as an assassin anymore," Ryland said, rubbing his temples. "And you'll have to play her, since Butthurt's gone."

"We don't _have_ to play anyone," Ash argued. "Why would we play _this?_ It's not even Killcore anymore.

With no answers to give, Ryland threw up his hands in surrender. Without a word, he stood and wandered away, tuning out the arguments that tried to follow him up the stairs. The others could waste their time arguing about the endless bullshit in the patch notes if they wanted. They could make the decision as to whether or not eSports People would break up or keep going. Either way, Ryland intended to head home and pass out early, facedown in his pillow, so he didn't have to think about it anymore.

While his best friend, Alex, tended to wear his heart on his sleeve, Ryland kept his rage buried deep beneath layers of past disappointments. His infamous teenage outburst cost him his friendships, his status, and his dignity; he never wanted a repeat of _that._ No... Better to let his anger out in an endless slow leak, never quite losing his temper, but always just on the verge of it. Better to sleep it away than explode and embarrass himself again.

Even so, as he found himself staring out the front room's enormous bay window, he felt like screaming.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, Buddy?" Alex asked.

"You followed me."

"You're thinking about me following you? I thought I was pretty quiet."

Ryland rolled his eyes. He was actually thinking about how much he loved that stupid fucking game, and how embarrassing it was to be so disappointed in its gutting. He was thinking about curling into a ball in the tub and turning the water on to see how close he could get to drowning before he chickened out. He was thinking about how normal people had normal jobs and spouses and hobbies while he was mourning the death of an inconsequential video game. He said, "I'm thinking about the patch notes."

Alex stood next to him by the window. "Pretty crazy, huh?"

"Tch. Crazy. Yeah."

"Didja take your meds?"

Ryland narrowed his eyes and muttered, "That's a rude question."

"Yeah but you're kinda spinnin' here, man. I'm worried."

Ah, Alex. He could always tell when Ryland was truly upset. Time after time, Alex had come to Ryland's rescue with a well-timed joke or a seriously inane question that made them both laugh. Sometimes when Ryland was at his very worst, Alex just stood by quietly as a shoulder to lean on.

Ryland owed him the truth. "I'm... more upset than usual."

"Like I said, there's other games we could get into. Kamal says they're all basically the same, and Ash says that we can just wait and find out which one all the Killcore players bail to and follow them there."

That wasn't good enough, though. No one knew stats like Ryland. No one could see the differences between one MOBA and another like he could. No one could see how special Killcore truly was before it was ruined. "I don't want to go to another game," he said, like a petulant child.

He always underestimated Alex's solution-finding capacity. Anyone else would have told Ryland to get over it--that Killcore was a thing of the past and he could either move on or wallow in misery. Instead, Alex said, "Then I guess you have to do something about it."

"Yeah. Sure. Wave my hands around and make demands."

"Why not? Although if you want people to take you seriously, maybe don't do the jazzhands thing. Just an idea. I mean, I think it's cool. You do you. Whatever! But when I was in that band like a million years ago they were all like, 'Alex, stop wiggling your wrists around! That's so gay!' And let's be fair. They were _almost_ right, but I always wonder what would have happened if I'd just listened. What were we talking about?"

Ryland blinked. For a moment, he couldn't remember.

"Ah," Alex said. "Yeah, write a letter or somethin'. Might not help, but it can't hurt, right?"

No, Ryland supposed it couldn't hurt at all.

\---

It took a couple days for Ryland to find the right mindset for writing. At first, he tried to let the anger go so he could be as professional as possible, but then he realized--fuck it, he could use the god-damned anger to his advantage. And screw writing to Lizard Coast Games, who were likely a bunch of non-gamer execs with their thumbs inserted fully into their colons. A campaign to save Killcore needed something special.

It needed Reddit.

His first post was simple:

_Hey gamers. Hope you all remember Boogerboss. If you don't, I'm that idiot who threw a temper tantrum on camera over a lost DODA password. Take a moment to laugh if you gotta. But get it out of your system, because I'm about to get serious._

With the other members of eSports People making sure they posted it to as much of their own social media as possible, it garnered a fair amount of interest. Ryland resisted reading the comments in the thread, though; Reddit users, especially gamers, were notorious assholes, and he wasn't about to let them release the wind from his sails. Not yet, anyway.

A few days later, he sat down to write for real.

 _I don't know how to do this sort of shit,_ he started. Taking a deep breath, he rolled his eyes and hoped some gamer deity would spare him from embarrassing himself. Preferably not the same trickster god who'd been following him around his whole life and ruining everything.

 _I'm angry,_ he went on. _I'm sure you all know this is about Killcore by now. eSports People took second place at last month's Bloodmatch, and you can all guess how much our team loved that game._

_This isn't for eSports People, though. It's for every team who played against us and either won or lost. It's for every casual gamer who found solace in this brutal bloody MOBA. It's for every kid who's dreamed of playing eSports professionally some day._

_I say this from the bottom of my heart: Fuck Lizard Coast Games._

_Okay, yeah, I've seen people blowing up the Killcore forums. I've seen the DDoS attacks on the servers. But it's all fragmented and easy for LCG to handle. They can delete your forum posts. They can weather the attacks. They can so easily silence you because they have the power. But what they can't do is_ un- _silence you._

_I don't know what they're doing, and frankly, I don't give a flying fuck. I'm sure they think this'll lead to more money in their pockets eventually, though fuck knows who gave them that advice. But they can't make you play the game. They can't make you post to the forums. They can't make you attack their servers. They can't make you give them attention._

_So stop._

Ryland took a break from writing to bring up the game. One thing Killcore always prided itself on was its clear display of just how many people were connected at any given time. On Ryland's server alone, there were almost six thousand people, and there were a few dozen servers in the game. Six thousand wasn't a lot compared to Killcore's heyday when up to fifteen thousand would crowd any given server, but for a recently fucked-over game, six thousand was a lot. Too many.

He went back to writing. _I know it's tempting to vent your rage on the forums, but that's like candy to them. Give them the publicity and they have no reason to back down. Keep paying for loot boxes, and they'll feel justified in what they've done. And attacking their servers only shows you still care._

_But if you really care about this game, you'll stop caring._

_Disconnect. Abandon the forums. Starting at midnight tonight. Spread the word. Take away their revenue, and they'll thrash around trying to find some way to salvage this shit. They'll do anything._

_In the words of my best friend, it might not help, but it can't hurt. So why don't we all see what happens?_

_I'll make another post tomorrow. We'll measure our success. We'll get our Killcore back, I promise."_

Ryland hesitated. He hesitated for a long time, the mouse arrow hovering over the _post_ button. Who was he, anyway? And how full of himself must he be to think thousands of people would listen to him?

But his thread already had a couple thousand upvotes, so maybe...

Maybe he'd fail. But even if nothing came of it, at least he could say he tried. And Alex would be proud of him at the very least. Ryland might even be proud of himself.

He sent the post, immediately shut his computer down so he wouldn't be tempted to refresh the page a million times, and went to bed.

\---

When Ryland woke, Alex's nose was literally three inches from his face.

He tried to jump backward, as that's what one tended to do when startled. Given that he was prone, though, his head collided soundly with the wall behind his pillow, and he spent the next several minutes pacing the room and swearing as Alex sat calmly at the foot of the bed and waited.

"You done?" Alex asked after a while.

"What're you doing in my _room?_ I coulda been naked or something!"

Alex laughed. "Like you haven't walked around the apartment naked before. C'mon, Ry. There's nothin' I haven't seen."

Fair. Definitely fair.

Ryland rubbed the top of his head, fingers pressing down on the lump that was starting to form. "So what're you doing here? It's too early for this bullshit."

He glanced at the bedside clock. As he didn't have a nightstand, it sat forlornly upon the dirty carpet, revealing that it was well past noon. The point still stood.

"That post you made last night on Readthis went viral! Congrats, man."

"Viral" to Alex meant somewhere in the realm of fifty people. Still, Ryland grunted acknowledgment.

Shuffling over to the bookshelf, he disentangled yesterday's t-shirt from the single trophy and pile of unread books, and pulled it over his head. It was inside-out, but he didn't really care. "M'gonna make coffee. Next time you wanna wake me up, shake my arm or something."

"Noted," Alex said.

After a brief slog into the apartment's living space, Ryland was somewhat dazed to find that every other member of his Killcore team was waiting for him.


End file.
